


Thistle

by vermicious_knid



Series: Then there's you [4]
Category: I Am The Night (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 18:54:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18697285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vermicious_knid/pseuds/vermicious_knid





	Thistle

1971

 

It had been at least a couple of months since he’d heard from her (not that he thinks too much about that). He figured she had settled nicely where she was, close to her mother and close to the sea.

 

They had sent sporadic letters to each other instead of calling – an unspoken rule they both had followed. He was often out of the country, sometimes acting as a news correspondent overseas, so his postcards always bore a sign of where he was in the world.

 

Hers were always white, unmarked and fairly anonymous. They always looked like they were written in a hurry, but the words were carefully chosen. They were both tidbits of their lives, almost-lies that would only make sense to the two of them, like invisible ink.

 

 _Her_ letters were more personal. She laid herself bare in those letters.

 

And he thought, she shouldn’t – _not to me._

 

* * *

 

He was back in New york.

 

It was the height of summer, and he’d been to a bar late at night and ended up inviting a woman up to his apartment. She was perfectly lovely, and laughed even though there was nothing to laugh about.

 

His apartment in the Bronx was only a few blocks away, but as he fished out his keys, a small figure caught his eye sitting outside on the steps. He almost mistook her for a cat, all dressed in black, dark hair longer now, falling in waves down her back.

 

She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, eyed him with wide, familiar green eyes and his heart snagged on something painful.

 

”Fauna.” he said in a voice he could scarcely recognize.

 

”Hey.” she breathed, not daring to smile.

 

The woman at his side was given cab fare home, but he could hear her mutter under her breath as she walked away.

 

* * *

 

Fauna had a suitcase with her, decorated with a few flower-power stickers that must have been forced on by a friend or roommate. He kept glancing at it by the door, while Fauna walked circles around his small apartment – peeking into rooms and flipping light switches like a kid with nothing to do.

 

”Have you lived here long?” she asks as he leans against the kitchen counter and looks down into the sink, like he can see their shared past in the drain.

 

”Well, I don’t usually stay here. ” he mutters and she shrugs, fingers brushing the top of a red couch.

 

* * *

 

When the lights are still on in the living room, she insists that she can sleep on the couch just fine.

 

And he almost believes it.

 

But he is groggily awoken three hours later by the sensation of being watched in the dark. It has happened often, when his ghosts come to visit him.

 

And Fauna, cast in shadows and blue light, can almost be mistaken for one – except a ghost never fusses so much, or fidgets. She is wearing a long nightgown with bare sleeves, and even though it’s dark he can see all the stars of her freckles.

 

”What?” he asks, mouth barely moving, eyes half-shut. There is a sense of deja-vu. Fauna looks less calm, like something has spooked her in the dark.

 

”Can I...can I just rest beside you for a little while?” she asks.

 

”Sure kid, sure.” And without even thinking about propriety, or even remembering what he set out not to do, he kicks back the covers sleepily and scoots over.

 


End file.
